


Day Twenty-Eight: Doing something ridiculous (AKA "We Can't Fuck in Here, James!")

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 30 Days of OTP: Bond/Q [28]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Partially Clothed Sex, Presents, Projects, Sex at work, Sex in the Boardroom, knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q's confused over his present, gives a presentation, and is given another present by a proud boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Twenty-Eight: Doing something ridiculous (AKA "We Can't Fuck in Here, James!")

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, these three are my OT3/BroTP forever. 
> 
> Also, sex at work is ridiculous, right? Yes it is.

Q sat at his desk, looking at the box.

 _It’s been a week. A week since my birthday._ He kept staring at the thing that sat in the box. He imagined that it looked back at him. Granted, it didn’t have eyes, so it couldn’t _actually_ look back at him, but the idea was still there. He wanted to touch it, to hold it close to his heart, but he couldn’t...actually...bring himself to do so.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

Q jumped and swiveled in his chair to look at one of his technicians...Miranda. “Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong. Ah, you do have that mock-up all figured out, then?”

“Yes. I had Thad work on it with me, and we believe we have a working model ready for presentation, whenever you want to schedule it -”

With a flick of his fingers, Q dismissed the rest of what she was going to say. “Now would be good. Go ahead and set up the appointment with the appropriate committees, and I’ll be along shortly to speed things through. That new biometric tag would be a godsend in the field, especially with so many of our field agents going off the grid for days or weeks at a time...” He looked up as Alec walked through the doors of Q Branch, “...or just randomly ‘die’ and go on an impromptu vacation to the south of the Philippines.”

“Oi, I never said that I was going to go, I just ended up there when the dinghy washed ashore. I can’t help that a beautiful girl was the unfortunate soul who found me and patched me up.” He leaned his hip against the desk, looking for all the world like someone who hadn’t spent the whole night drinking and bemoaning paperwork to Bond and Q while they tried to get a very determined leg over in the darkest corner of the Colosseum that they could find. “I had to repay her somehow.”

“And I’m sure you managed just fine on that front.” The Quartermaster shooed Miranda away, turning his gaze back to the rather large knife resting on the black silk interior of the box. “How can I help you, Double oh Six?”

Alec’s face went through some very interesting combinations of emotions when he spotted the knife. “I was going to ask what’s got you so distracted, but now I can see it firsthand.” He peered at the present. “He got you a knife. A knife for your birthday.”

“A survival knife.” Q agreed. He looked at it, fearing what it would feel like in his palm. _No. I fear that it would feel just as right as it did before._ “Not just any knife, Trevelyan. _His_ knife. The one...”

“Yeah, thought it looked familiar.” Alec scowled a bit, his brows knitting together. “He’s giving it to you.” It wasn't a question.

“Seems so.”

“Well...” Alec cocked his head, first to one side, then the other. “I’m not sure he understands what would be a good, you know...birthday present?” He sat down and picked up the box. The knife was definitely Bond’s - _he has a slight...let’s call it an obsession...with CRKT, and this is right up his alley._ Solid black ergonomic handle, matte black blade with serrations starting halfway down the edge. The edge was bright and silvery, undoubted sharpened lovingly since its trip through the Israeli’s - _no, Palestinian’s_ \- chest. Alec cocked his head again, and looked closer. _Wait a minute... there’s not one flake of dry blood on it at all, and the blade isn't even nicked. And the handle is unmarked._ “This isn’t the knife. This is yours. He went off and bought you your very own.”

Q stared at him. “...Mine?”

“Yeah.” Alec pulled the knife out of the box, then unfolded the silk to uncover two sheaths: hip and thigh. “He bought you your own survival knife.” He slipped the blade into the less bulky hip sheath and tossed it at Q, who caught it awkwardly. “Go ahead. Get a feel for it.”

“I couldn’t possibly - why does he think he needs to buy me weapons?” Q pulled the blade out of the sheath and held it tightly, his pale hand wrapped around the moulded nylon grip like it belonged there.

“That I can’t answer for you.” Alec shrugged and played with the thigh sheath. “It looks nice, though.”

“It’s very nice,” Q conceded. He twisted his wrist, looking at the edge from all angles. “Very sharp. Deadly. Very nice.” He gestured for the box again, and Alec slid it over to him so he could put the ten inch knife back into the silk. “Beautiful. Not something I’d carry with me every day, though. And these are meant to be used, Alec. CRKT Ultimas are a utility knife.”

“You know what it is?” Alec raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, for the love of - of _course_ I do, I’m a ruddy _weapons designer_ , you dingbat!” Q chuckled, and flicked a finger at the butt of the hilt. “See all of this? Pry tip here, modified tanto design, and the serrations, all made to be used. I know it's a knife, and I know Bond wants me to have one, but I just...don't know what I'd use it for.” He sighed. “I suppose, if it had a wire stripper, I could use that, I _could_ use the serrations for that job. The pry tip could be used to get into computer towers...I could cut wires with the blade.” He took the sheath from the agent and set it inside the box with the other one, then shut the box. “What could I possibly do with one so large, though? A bloody _knife_ , Alec. He gets me a knife for my birthday, the same one I used in a last ditch effort to try to save our lives, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

“Throw it at your minions when they piss you off?”

Q snorted out a laugh. “Hardly! The thing’s too big!” He smiled, and set the box in one of his desk drawers. “Ah, well, let’s...just...um, is there a reason you are here?”

Alec nodded, and held up a folder. “As a matter of fact, I do have a reason.”

Q nodded, his brain already forgetting about the knife as it shifted into ‘ _Let’s get Alec Trevelyan as much goodies as possible in the shortest amount of time possible, and make sure he knows not to break any of it, even though he won’t listen and break most of it and blow the rest of it up with the hotel_ ’ mode. “Perfect. I have just the thing for you. You are going back to Moscow, aren’t you? Yes. Well, I have a prototype camera I would like you to field test for me. But first, I’ve made you a biometric grip for your Glock, just like Bond’s Walther...” He trailed off as he walked away from his desk, Alec following behind him like a loyal dog.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“So, simply put, the battery is completely organic, so there’s no need to change it out until something goes wrong with one of the components. Nearly everything in the capsule is organic,in fact.” Q pressed the side of his pointer, and the slide changed. “Rigorous testing has shown that the body doesn’t reject this material as a rule, with only a slight risk of rejection shown in about ten percent of the subjects tested. The battery itself must be organic, or we run the risk of a toxic event if the capsule is ever destroyed or punctured and the battery is damaged. Any other questions?”

A hand went up in the back. “How much is this going to cost the taxpayers in the long run?”

Q swallowed the frustrated growl that wanted to crawl out of his chest. Instead, he subtly rolled his shoulders, looked over everyone’s heads - and saw James, standing in the corner of the room, leaning up against one of the back pillars, watching the presentation - _watching Q_ \- with a genuinely curious expression, open and interested. _He’s actually paying attention to something I’m doing. He’s showing interest in something I am passionate about?_ Q wanted to melt into a puddle, he wanted to walk over and snog the agent senseless, he wanted to carry James around in his pocket for the rest of the day and gloat over how he managed to find someone who _actually gave a shit_ about biometrics and electronics and organic tech and solid state tech and nanotech... He realised he was staring, and quickly dropped his gaze, but not before catching the slight head nod and smile from his boyfriend. He looked out over the bureaucrats and councilmembers, and nodded.

“I have a plan for that, if you will all take a look at this graph I have up here...” Another click of his pointer brought it up, and he continued with the presentation, enjoying the feeling of that steel blue gaze falling on his shoulders, following his every move.

  
  
  
  


 

After the meeting concluded, the committee cleared out, leaving only Bond and Q in the boardroom. Q collapsed into the chair at the head of the long table, and the agent walked around to stop beside him, and cleared his throat.

“That went well, I think.”

Q looked up at him, craning his head over the headrest of the high-backed chair. “I do believe it did, James. I think they were...moderately pleased with my little project.” James laid a hand on the Quartermaster’s shoulder, kneading gently into the tight muscle of his trapezius, and Q groaned in unmitigated pleasure. “Oh, Lord, don’t stop, whatever you do.”

“I think you did fine, Evan.” James didn’t stop the massage; he added his other hand, warm from his hip pocket, to Q’s neck, fingertips spreading over his nape and scratching the short hair there. “And it’s hardly a little project, I would think.”

“Mmmm...no, it is a little one. A large one would be making a suitcase nuke.” Q felt like purring from the attention James was giving him, the lovely hands on his neck and the words both working to make him into that puddle he wanted to melt into earlier. He hummed and rolled his head on his shoulders, pressing his ear to the back of James’ hand. “God, that feels fantastic. Where have you been?”

“Karachi. Little scuffle over there, concerning gun runners and Egyptian gold. And can you actually make a suitcase nuke out of the blue like that?” The agent drew both hands down and out, rubbing his strong fingers into Q’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you have a working uranium enricher in the armoury.”

“I might - oh, damn it, James, you are a _maestro_ with those fingers!” Q sighed, breathing out his stress. “I could make one, given the right materials. I sent Alec back to Moscow, earlier. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

James paused for a second. “I’m not sure how to feel about that, either.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips just underneath Q’s ear. “Let’s not think about that. I can get more information out of Tanner later. Right now, I want you.”  
  
Q’s mind went a bit corkscrewed at that. “Here? You want me...here?”

James hummed a reply into the skin of Q’s throat, licking a path down to where his fingers lay across the hacker’s collarbones. His other hand moved to yank the black tie away from Q’s neck. “God, yes, Evan. Right here, in your domain. You were so hot today, talking about the new monitors. You were in your element, and you looked so fucking happy, glowing with pride in your work...” He started to work on the buttons of Q’s shirt as he nibbled on the bits of skin he’d exposed. Q growled as a broad tendril of lust rolled through his veins. “I wanted you then, on this table, wanted you panting and bucking up against me as I took you apart, right here. I would have kicked all of them out, just to hear you scream my name as I fucked you into the lacquered oak.”  
  
“Oh, my fucking God, James, this is ridiculous, we can’t have sex here.” Q didn’t want to talk reason to James, he wanted to do exactly what he was saying. “What if someone -”

“Locked the doors.” The agent mouthed at Q’s shoulder as he pulled the white dress shirt out of Q’s trousers. “Wanted to do this.”

“Oh, well, then it’s all fine, then, isn’t it?” Q laughed, high and giddy with disbelief and want. “Oh, James, you son of a bitch. Talk to me, make me want you.”

“I don’t have to, you already want this.” He tossed the shirt aside and turned the chair around to settle his large frame onto the smaller man, sitting astride his thighs and ducking his head down to claim Q’s mouth.

“Oh!” Q reached out a trembling hand and pressed a few buttons on his laptop. Out of the speakers around them came...

“What’s this?” James muttered between licking and biting at Q’s red lips.

“Orgy. Love this band.”  
  
“Never heard of them. Sounds like something Alec would like.” James smiled, and Q growled up at him and nipped at his bottom lip, then moved down and latched onto the agent’s neck, sucking a dark mark just above the neckline of his shirt. James let out his own deep growl and pressed his hands into Q’s hair, gripping tight and holding him against his skin. “Fuck, that’s gorgeous. Oh, _fuck_. That feels _good, Evan_...” He hitched his hips forward, and Q jerked beneath him as Bond’s clothed erection pressed up against his stomach.

“Oh, you are...”

“Have been since you looked at me.” James groaned and rolled his hips again. “Shit, now I’m torn between fucking you or having you bend me over this fucking table and blow my mind.”

Q made a startled noise and bucked his hips up against James. “Oh, _God yes_.” He hummed into James’ neck and bit down, hard enough to bruise some more. “God, I want whatever, doesn’t matter, I _want_ it.”

The music drowned out most of the noise they were making, Q knew, but he couldn’t help but try to stay quieter than normal - that is, until James gave up sucking on his neck. The agent stood up abruptly, picked Q bodily out of the chair, and deposited him on the oak table. Q let out a squawk of discontent that turned into a lusty moan when James dropped to both knees in front of him and started doing away with belt and flies. Q’s hands stroked and petted Bond’s shoulders and head, fingers twisting at the hair at the back of James’ head and gripping tightly when the man finally wriggled Q’s trousers down to his knees and pulled down his pants. Q’s prick bobbed in the cool air of the room, twitching with each frantic beat of his heart. James’ eyes darkened even further, and he licked his lips, a hungry smirk settling on his face. Q closed his own eyes and his skin turned rosy and hot under the man’s gaze.

“Oh, bloody hell, this is _ridiculous_.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” James hummed in satisfaction as he pressed his tongue to the underside of Q’s cock, using the tip to trace the small trail of liquid that leaked from the head, and Q gripped Bond’s hair even tighter. “You are ridiculously gorgeous, and I love you. Now shut up and enjoy the blowjob.”

“Fucking ruddy hell, James.” Q groaned as he was engulfed in the wet heat of his boyfriend’s mouth. He dragged his nails along Bond’s scalp, winning a deep groan that reverberated through his prick and up his spine, settling deep into his brain. “Damn it, you have such an amazing mouth...”

James hummed and swallowed, making Q yowl. He pulled off for a second to get his breath back. “And you have the sweetest hands.” One hand reached down to undo his belt and trouser buttons so he could take himself in hand, and he quickly licked a wet stripe on his palm and reached back down. “Sometimes, when I have some time to myself on a mission, I imagine it’s your hand on me, bringing me off.”

“Oh, God.” Q trembled on the table, trapped by Bond’s other arm barred over his lower torso. “Oh, Lord. Suck me, please!”

“I dream of you, at night.” James teased Q, swirling his tongue just at the head and licking up the twitching shaft, making Q squirm and curse at him. “I can taste you, on my lips, when I come. Like I just got done sucking you off, like that first night, oh, that was perfect. Never would have guessed, Evan.” He swallowed Q down to the root and hummed, his hand working hard on his own prick. He fucked up into his hand as Q’s hips stuttered, pushing Q’s cock further into his mouth. As soon as he felt the muscles tightening against his forearm, he pulled off again, and the most beautiful litany of swearwords rolled out of the hacker’s mouth. “Never would have guessed you were such a perfect person.”

“Oh... _fuck, James_...I’m so _close_ , you son of a bitch...”

“Tell me, love.” James growled and squeezed himself. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Q’s fingers tightened even more. “I want to come down your throat, damn it, and then I’m sucking you off, so don’t you dare waste that brilliant erection!”

“Oh, yes. Lovely.” James’ breath caught in his chest when Q looked down at him, green eyes blown black with lust and sparking with life. “Oh, _come_ for me, love. I want you to.” And he took him back into his mouth, not stopping this time until Q was howling his name and pulsing hard against his tongue. And for once in his life, he couldn’t control his own body - the feeling of Q’s come hitting the back of his throat spiking pure pleasure through his nerves - and he shuddered out his own orgasm, his brain sliding sideways in his skull and his vision blacking out for a few seconds.

When he could think again, Q had slipped off the table, his trousers pulled back up but not buttoned, and he was sitting on Bond’s lap, hands stroking his chest through his shirt and lips tracing his pulse in his neck. He hummed, and Q looked up at him.

“I told you to wait for me, lovely.”

James sighed happily. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You will just have to make it up to me tonight.”  
  
“And that is something I can do, no problem.” James smirked and grabbed Q’s face, sticky hands and all, and kissed him soundly.

  
  



End file.
